indecision

Lately J and I have been faced with problems making decisions. Not only together, as a team, but also individually. These decisions have come in all forms, big and small, life-changing and environment changing. Should we get a new car? Should we get new carpet? Should we take some time off together? How about a change in jobs? What is this uncertainty?

Part of me thinks that we are in a rut. We have lost our vision of where we are going and what we want. Perhaps all of the choices we make every day have wearied us from clearly seeing our path. We are bombarded every waking minute by ads, signs, voices, friends, family, magazines, all telling us what we should buy or how we should live. Perhaps this constant barrage has overwhelmed us.

Or, are we just more mature? In youth, we know what we want and we go get it. If we don't know what we want, we fake it. But, there is no fear of the unknown or of the "what might happen". As adults, we know the grass isn't always greener. It needs the same care and maintenance as the grass we currently have. It might also have hidden problems. Maybe we should watch for a while and see what pops up in the spring. It could be full of nasty weeds. Perhaps, it is an illusion of being greener, being better, but, in fact, our grass is better. So, we wait. Suspended in time we pause.

But, every indecision is a decision. A very passive way of choosing a way. Instead of saying, "this is what I want", we say "let's think about it". We decide to do nothing (by not deciding) and opportunities (or not) pass us by. We float along with all these decisions suspended around us like a whirlwind. Sometimes they are in our faces and we consider them. Sometimes they are behind us and we forget they are there.

Funny enough, I can't decide if this is a bad thing or not.

Training X 2

My bicycle training has begun again. J and I will be riding the Black Hills of South Dakota with ACA on September 11, 2010. Since I had to train to run my portion of the Missoula Marathon in July, I have neglected to keep up with my riding. 2 weeks ago I took a deep breath and plunged back in. This time I'm using only my new Voodoo Wazoo cross bike with no cushy suspension or low granny gears. The comfort of my bikes goes like this: cruiser- most comfortable, mountain- reasonably comfortable, cross- least comfortable. The opposite is true for speed. Until yesterday, my training rides have consisted of hopping on the path by our house and cranking as fast as I can down to Florence and back (16ish miles?). I consider the amount of effort to be the most important part of these rides. That, and getting my butt used to sitting on that saddle. I haven't been timing myself, but I feel my muscles returning to their hard state of 2007's summer. My biking shorts feel more snug even though I swear that I'm not heavier than I was back then.

Saturday, J and I decide to ride one of our training loops of 2007, but this time on our cross bikes. This is a major step in my ability to do the SD ride in 3 weeks. Leave it to me to procrastinate training. Actually, I'm very good at getting motivated to train, but this summer my body is out of whack again, leaving me feeling nothing but fatigue. This 26 mile loop starts at the famous Lumberjack Saloon, a crazy bar/restaurant 17 miles West of Lolo way, way, way off the beaten path. This is a place that can't be missed when visiting the beautiful Lolo area. There are live bands on the weekend, loads of greasy food, and always interesting folks, both working there and customers. On this particular night there must be a wedding as silver balloons lead us to our destination.

We begin our ride and it is pretty flat, easy riding. In 12 miles we begin to climb. And climb. J automatically starts to encourage me. He's been training and not struggling like I am. He tells me "you're amazing, keep it up, you're so strong,". Ordinarily, this would annoy me. Today, I eat this up. Because inside my head I'm telling myself "you can do this, keep it up, we're almost there". Telling yourself positive things really makes a huge difference. Having J tell me those things in my time of need is refreshingly nice. Thanks, babe.

I'm trying to go as fast as I can because it's not the long days of summer anymore. Darkness is coming faster than I would like. In my speed, I'm also wearing myself out faster. At one point on a hill I need to stop. J asks me if we can at least walk instead of stopping completely. Ah, he's worried too. Pushing a bike uphill is not a great task. I decide I don't want to stop anymore.

See, this is the thing, I feel that if I can't complete this loop, I probably won't be ready for our trip. It's do or die. Give it all you got! I dig deep, really, really deep. When my mind says stop, I look down at the ground in front of me and concentrate on my legs. How are they turning? What muscles are firing? What if I tweak this? Concentrate on the up instead of the down? This gets me through.

We reach the top as the sun is setting behind the mountains. This is an area that has been heavily burned. Fireweed is the first thing to grow and here it is almost as tall as I am. It is spectacular! We cruise along easily on soft roads and stop worrying about the time.

And then comes the downhill. Our bikes are stiff and we feel every bump on the way down. Also, the grade is fairly steep and our bikes are trying to zip down. We are sliding down our handlebars to grip the brakes. This makes me feel like my nose is inches from my front tire. It doesn't take long for my hands to start getting tired. We stop with five miles to go and J tells me that he can't wait for this torture to be over. Whew! I am relieved. I thought it was just me.

When we hit the main road the temperature drops and the visibility starts to get sketchy. Luckily, we don't run into any vehicles and go as quickly as we can. When we see the lights in the distance I think we do a mental high five, which becomes a real high five in the parking lot next to our truck. I will do this ride!

Body Over Mind

The first ride of the season is always the most challenging. Today was no exception. Today was the first day I would ride on my new seat given to me by my husband for my birthday. This was a funny present as it is a Terry seat with a butterfly embroidered on the back. When we first looked at mountain bikes for me back in 2006, I had no idea what I was getting into. All the accessories, the materials of the forks and frames. When J saw a Canondale in our local store, his eyes lit up. It's so cool. This is the bike you want. I looked at it, seeing a bike, a foreign object with shocks and a weird one sided fork. Strange looking thing. But it had this cool embroidered butterfly on the seat. That's when I knew this was my bike. I felt like that little bit of girliness put my mind at ease. I was scared, but how scared could I be with a beautiful butterfly on my seat? See what I mean? Anyway, J orders me a bike and it arrives with an OEM bike seat. My first words when asked how I liked my new bike were "where's the butterfly?"

As previously posted, I got over my fears, I ride and I'm usually not scared to death. Last summer Voodoo had a big sale on cross bikes and J bought me a beautiful electric blue Wazoo. It's small and quick and makes me feel like I'm in charge. It's the bomb on our paved path or flat dirt roads. But its seat was nothing special, so for my birthday J bought me a Terry seat with an embroidered butterfly. This morning he put it on and we got dressed for a ride this afternoon.

I'm dressed, ready to leave and look outside. It's snowing. Sideways. Nope. I'm not going I tell J. He looks out and laughs. Wow. Blizzard. He agrees to wait and see if things improve. They do. I rise reluctantly out of my cozy chair and head outside. The ride starts off pretty well. When we reach Florence 7.5 miles later, I'm whiny. My back hurts, my ELBOWS hurt, my ass hurts (new seat needs broken in). J wants to continue down by the river. I want to head home. I look towards the mountains and see dark storm cloud pouring over towards us. I feel the snow coming, the wind. I tell J to head on his way and catch up with me on the way home. He hesitates, but complies.

I head home, into the wind, the temperature drops, the snow begins to fall and my head tells me I can't do it. How will I make it home? The whole way home I'm in my head, thinking defeatist thoughts. In spite of it all, my body feels fine. My muscles are churning, pushing me home. Back in the groove already. Why do I mistrust it? The powerhouse of my body takes me home on a breeze. The butterfly on my seat reminding me of who I have become.

Holidays

So, here we are again. The holiday season is upon us. There's no denying it. All the stores are starting to load up on gift cards, decor, and there's a feel to the air that is undeniably "that time of year". Last year I dreaded this time. Wracking my brain to think of gifts, cooking cooking, cooking, how the days are so short and it's dark going to and coming from work.

This year, I'm already looking forward to it all. The wreaths appearing on doors. I get to pull out my bins and smile as I lovingly unwrap family treasures- tree decorations, carved Santas, lights that twinkle. And, let's not forget- the leg lamp. I have books I want to read, movies I must watch. Time I will take. During this season I am going to say yes. Yes, I want a tree. Yes, I will think about each gift, wrap them with love. Cook and disperse goodies. Feel the joy of the season. Yes, I will.

New Adventure

So I am now 1 week into a new adventure in my life. I have started taking online classes to become an interpreter for the deaf. Until now, I have always felt like my education is right behind me. Now I feel like my education lives in the next state.

I have forgotten about taking notes, trying my hardest to memorize dates, names (dates are the worst- I can't retain dates to save my life), not to mention new vocabulary in a visual language. Sure, I took sign language in college. When did college become 20 years ago? I am remembering signs as the appear on my lists for the week, but now I am more intent on detail- recording, deleting, rerecording 1 minute slices of me signing 10 of the smallest sentences in all history. Gestures must be precise, within the box of my torso. My face must also express emotion as I gesture. I could spend hours practicing in front of a mirror. But I also have to work.

So, I'm taking extra time in the restroom at work, quickly signing the alphabet, words, sentences. Critiquing myself on the fly. What a weird thing. Watching myself on my webcam, wanting to stick my tongue out at myself at this strange voyeurism.

What am I doing? Growing, learning a lot about who I am in the process. Wish me luck!

Summertime Rolls

Sometimes in life there are ups and downs. We find ourselves falling, getting bruised, struggling to return to that happy place where we began.

This has been my summer. It started out full of promise: cool, long days and pleasant evenings. I thought I would regain my gooey center. That happy go-lucky me who is focused, full of energy and adventure. Unfortunately, this has not been the case.

I feel off-balance and unsure. Each step I take is shaky and I'm not sure if where I plant my foot is where I want to be. Me, who used to bumble down the trail hardly looking at any footfalls is consumed by where my feet have been and where they are now going. I don't want to end up lost. I don't want to be retracing my steps because of careless error. I want again to be carefree, humming a tune while feeling at one with everything around me.

But I'm not. I feel stuck. Standing, turning in every direction. Not sure which path to take. Should I turn back? Cautiously return to that last fork in the road and choose the other way? Or should I forge ahead into the unknown with faith my only guide?

I'm stressed. I feel the weight of responsibilities. Family, financial, friends. Family is causing me to pause on the side of the path, sadness prevents me from seeing clearly to move forward. I feel such loss from my grandfather, such pain from my grandmother. The frustration and resentment from their children. Now J's grandmother fighting, not fighting. So far away, but constantly here with me. Distress of his mom, distance from his father.

Financial guilt consumes me. I know this is the path to something new, fulfilling, something that is only for me. But, the guilt of spending money on education is a burden. I'm so cautious that I have to be careful to not let inaction become my decision. I cannot be passive.

So, summer, a time that should be filled with fun, vacations, no worries is something of a crisis. So, I sit. Precariously perched. I'm watching everything around me, hesitant to move forward. Imploding on emotion.

Grace and Ted

I dream of her always, even when I don't dream and her name's on my tongue and her blood's in my stream. ~John Prine

Family. They are all shapes, all sizes, all varieties of people. Everyone is given a title they wear like a badge. I am granddaughter, daughter, sister, aunt, wife. How I came to be here is because of my grandparents. I mean that literally. I'm alive because of them. I am also in Montana because of them. They are not only grandparents, but also the most endearing couple I have ever met. I was recommended to read the Notebook by Nicholas Sparks. When I finished it, I thought “that's no story- someone should write the story of my grandparents, now that's a love story.” It goes something like this:

Ted Mikels grew up poor in a large family. At a young age he showed passion and talent for art, but was discouraged from it because it wasn't something to make money from and wasn't considered an appropriate interest for a man of that era. He was invited to travel to France to study with his art teacher, but wasn't allowed to go due to the image that it would be inappropriate for a young man to travel abroad with a woman. In high school, he was forced to forgo school in order to work and bring in money to his desperate family.

Grace Tucker grew up in a family of girls. The Tuckers were proper, straightforward people who could be counted on to accomplish. In high school, Grace delivered papers. She took her job seriously and would insist on timely payment from her subscribers. One day when she was given a hard time, she was seen in the street during an argument that may or may not have turned into her hitting someone with a newspaper. Ted Mikels' father saw this and remarked “who is that boy?” to which Ted replied “that's no boy, that's Grace Tucker”. He was already desperately in love.

Their love has endured 70 years of marriage, world wars, open heart surgery, family tragedies, and continues to blaze in full view of everyone who meets them. I am blessed to have the opportunity to know them as people, not only as grandparents. Their love has helped shape me as a person and continues to inspire me to live life to it's fullest, with an open heart and mind to the future despite the fact that they won't be there.

I am receiving reports from my parents that Ted (Pappaw to me) is “not doing well” since returning from a recent family wedding trip. It is my biggest fear that I will not see him again. This powerful, talented man would play drawing games with us as children for endless hours. This game consisted of us drawing a squiggle on paper and he would draw something amazing from it. We always tried to stump him, but never could.

His fingers are now gnarled, no longer able to draw, paint, or carve. This must be torture for someone who was always creating. He finally graduated high school at age 80. His love of music, literature, and art burst through a childhood that tried it's best to suppress it. He still gets tears in his eyes when talking about life in the Yaak (Montana) before he had a heart attack. He still charms an audience by telling stories of his life and inspires everyone who knows him because this man- he knows love, he knows the meaning of life and his willpower overcomes the inadequacies of his physical body to stay with the woman he loves, because she needs him.

This is a great story. Maybe the problem with this story is that it can't really be told. It must be experienced. I have experienced it and am all the richer for it.